


Performance Review

by Ralkana



Category: Leverage
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teamwork is all about keeping those lines of communication open... An episode addition to <i>The Studio Job</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance Review

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – _Leverage_ is owned by Electric Entertainment and TNT. I'm just playing.
> 
> Timeline – Takes place during _The Studio Job_ , after Eliot's show, the night before the trip to the studio.

Eliot strode down the hotel's well-lit corridor, barely stifling a yawn. He'd been on an adrenaline high since Nate had first explained the con – the idea of singing in front of a crowd had freaked him out in a way no armed battalion or crazed dictator ever could, not that he would admit that to anyone, _ever_ – and the rush was finally fading, leaving him feeling slow and fatigued.

He was on his way back to the team's suite after seeing Kaye Lynn safely home. He'd regretfully turned down her invitation to stay – there was no way he could desert the team overnight in the middle of a job, no matter how much he wanted to.

Part of him – and it was easy to guess _which_ part of him – had tried to argue that staying would have been part of the job, too.

"I'd have just been making sure she was safe, that's all. 's what I do," he muttered, fighting a smile.

He shook his head ruefully, dismissing his thoughts as he slid his keycard into the suite's door. A blast of sound assaulted him as he opened the door, and he briefly closed his eyes and sighed before slipping inside.

Explosions and screams came from the suite's television as Hardison and Parker squabbled loudly over the remote. Nate was heading for the wet bar, nearly empty glass in hand, and behind the closed door of one of the bedrooms, Eliot could hear Sophie running lines.

Her interpretation of the meter was truly amazing.

"Is that _Hamlet_ she's slaughtering?" he asked as he crossed toward the wet bar.

Nate tossed back the rest of his drink in reply. Eliot noticed – though none of the others probably would – the other man's quick wince when he reached for a bottle, and guilt speared through him.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked Nate, keeping his voice low. He glanced from Hardison and Parker – who were suddenly quiet as hell and trying very hard to pretend like they weren't listening – to the screen, where something blue with... tentacles was shooting lasers at something green and covered in slime. "In private?"

Pausing in the act of pouring himself another drink, Nate studied Eliot. "Uh – yeah. Sure."

He waved the bottle enquiringly at another glass, and when Eliot only shook his head, Nate gestured to the other bedroom. Eliot followed him in, shutting the door behind them. He shoved his hands in his pockets to resist his body's natural inclination to shift to parade rest.

"I need to apologize," he said roughly. When Nate said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow, he fought not to hunch his shoulders. "I was careless, taking out my earbud in the middle of a job. It was irresponsible."

There was a tense beat. Then Nate shrugged, took a drink. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. "It's a good thing no one got hurt."

Guilt spasmed again, but curiosity shoved it down. "How did you take those guys out, anyway? Pocket taser?"

"Y'know, Eliot," Nate said, completely ignoring the question, "I know you make it a point to ignore Hardison when he talks about the earbuds, but you really should pay more attention to him sometimes."

Eliot froze, dread stirring in his gut at the glee dancing in the other man's eyes. "Why?" he growled.

"They're very effective," Nate said as he took another drink. "When not cushioned by the wearer's ear – when placed on, say, a table, they're _very_ good at picking up the ambient sounds in a room."

"Ambi – oh." His heart plummeted within him, stealing his breath, and to his horror, Eliot could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He thanked God it was just him and Nate discussing this. But the rest of them...

"Y – y'mean you – and they – they all – "

Nate saluted him with the glass as he opened the door between the bedroom and the rest of the suite.

"That was a hell of a performance you gave tonight, Eliot – though I have to tell you, the tempo seemed a little rushed."

The door closed behind him, and Eliot leaned against it, knees weak. Closing his eyes, he thumped his head back against the solid wood.

"Hell."

**Author's Note:**

> Additional note - I have no idea if the earbuds work this way. Then again, neither do the writers. But according to John Rogers, they're made of plotconveniencetonium, so I say they do work this way. *g*


End file.
